Twists of Fate
by crystaldewdrops
Summary: Fate? She definitely does not believe in that nonsense. But she doesn't know that one day, it will bring them together again. [RWHG] postHogwarts
1. Missing Something

Twist of Fate

You don't choose your fate. It chooses you...

Summary: Fate? She definitely does not believe in that nonsense. But she doesn't know that one day; it will bring them back together.

Disclaimer: Nope... I don't own anything... Don't sue me... Please!...

A/n: I'm going to be very busy… Schoolwork and all, but I'll try to update every week! …Well, umm not always every week, but I'll try to keep up!

Fate... Destiny... These two have something in common. They often play a part in one's life. A vital part. They get to choose what is in store for you; Mirth... Despair... Success... Failure... And you must live that life they chose. What is so puzzling is that how come they seldom do what you wish for. Sometimes, however, what you wish for comes true... Unexpectedly.

It was dusk already. She had been walking around the park for about two hours now. She just couldn't find a way in order to clear her mind, get her questions answered and live her flourishing life well and contentedly.

She was successful, triumphant and all the things one could ever ask for. She was one of the editors of the Evening Prophet, she co-owned a bookstore, and was head of the Department for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, a new department of the Ministry. She owned and lived in a quaint cottage in a wizarding village. She helped defeat the most feared of all dark wizards almost ten years ago. She had just about everything. Nearly everything. Yes, she had friends; friends she often owled and seldom saw, due to the fact that her duties and responsibilities were many.

Yet she still felt incomplete. Incomplete as if something was missing... Lost.

A tiny snowflake fell down and settled on her cheek. Her warm brown eyes stared at the gray sky. The chilly late November air prodded her to wrap her coat around instinctively. She trudged on slowly, glancing at passersby and the seemingly lifeless structure of the trees. Somehow, even if she was surrounded by crowds, she somehow felt alone. She was absolutely missing something in her life.

After a few more hours traipsing in the chilly village park, she reached the door of Number 32 Belladonna Lane. Her home.

She inserted her key, turned the doorknob, went in and closed the door. Her living room was cozy and inviting, with shades of scarlet and gold, it looked like the common room in Hogwarts.

"Meow...," a cat purred quietly.

"Hello there, Ginger, missed me," she greeted warmly.

She picked up the ginger-colored cat, who looked almost like her cat back in her Hogwarts days. Ginger was her cat's granddaughter, and she still hadn't changed her fondness for cats a bit. She opened a can of cat food and set in on Ginger's bowl. She didn't feel like eating, so she made herself a cup of tea and went to the mantelpiece.

There she saw photos, photos of her friends, her family and herself. There she was at eleven; she received her Hogwarts letter; there again she was with her family, at the age of eight. Apart from these two, all the others were moving pictures. Almost all of them showed her with her two best friends in Hogwarts. But there was one wherein there was herself and a redhead, one of her best friends, laughing, giggling and smiling while it was snowing near the lake. Their last picture in Hogwarts together. After graduation, she seldom saw him; the last was five years ago when he was assigned to America for an Auror mission, together with their other best friend.

She sighed deeply, took another sip of the scalding hot tea and stared at the flames in the fireplace. She was missing something... Something important; significant... Or was she missing _someone_? Just then she remembered a passage from a book: "Just when you think you have everything, you realize something's missing...".

Oh, there was a lot of truth in that sentence, if only they knew.

After she gulped down the last unpleasantly cold dregs of tea, she bade Ginger goodnight and went to her room. Her room was a light shade of blue, yet it looked awfully dark when it was night. Breathing deeply, she flicked on the lights at a wave of her wand. She looked around the room and at one of the elegant dark mahogany bookcases was something that caught her eye: her old, tattered copy of "Hogwarts, a History". She got it and flipped through the pages. Lots of memories came flooding back to her. She remembered every detail; every staircase; every classroom in her former school. She remembered all the things that happened to them in their seven years of schooling there. Beaming serenely, she went through the yellowed, worn pages of her book. After a while she closed the frayed book, replaced it on the shelf warily and snuggled into bed.

What happened to the three of them, she thought. They were close through Hogwarts, yet now, it seemed as though they did not exist in her world anymore. It was like they suddenly vanished; disappeared.

She looked out the window and gazed outside. Why weren't they the trio they once were, she asked herself. What happened? Was it fate? Destiny?

"Oh, rubbish! I don't believe that nonsense! I never have, and never will!", she argued to herself quietly, while playing with the edge of her bedspread. "There is always a logical explanation for everything that is happening. I've read an adequate number of books to prove that."

Debating whether what happened was fate or just a way of life, she suddenly saw a fleeting glimpse of certain red-haired person flash across her mind. It caused her to smile briefly and disregard all her queries and arguments for a while.

As she closed her eyes to sleep, she only thought of one person. The person who was missing in her life. The person she missed the most. The missing piece in her almost-perfect life.

That chilly winter night, twenty-seven year old Hermione Jane Granger dreamed of no other than a certain Ronald Weasley.

A/n: Umm… Review (please?)…


	2. Because of a Galleon

Chapter Two: Because of a Galleon

Disclaimer: Told you ages ago… I never owned… Don't own… Won't ever own anything… (sigh…)

A/n: So sorry… I know this is kind of a short chapter… And I'm really sorry for not updating sooner… Anyways, thanks for the reviews… I really appreciate them…

She woke up on a gray, gloomy Saturday, with snow threatening to fall. Her thoughts on the day before came back. She again felt miserable and lonely, while reminiscing the past.

She slowly and warily got up from the warm, cozy sheets and went to the kitchen to fix some breakfast without even bothering to make her bed.

Hermione saw the pictures on the mantelpiece again and was aware of the tears beginning to fall on her cheeks. She hastily wiped them with the back of her hand and proceeded straight into the tidy kitchen. Ginger was already there and was waiting for her food.

"'Morning, Ginger," Hermione greeted her cat. "You've been up already? It's Saturday. And you know what that means? No work for me!"

Ginger just stared at her and purred softly.

"Oh yes, your food," said Hermione, filling up Ginger's bowl with cat food before setting it in front of the hungry kitten.

Leaving Ginger for a while, she quickly made a not-so-glamorous breakfast of bacon and toast. Pouring herself some pumpkin juice, she then went to a neat wooden table to eat her breakfast alone.

After having breakfast, she went to her room and began looking for something to wear. She finally settled on a plain, quaint green top and a pair of Muggle jeans. She didn't even bother to wear a sweater or a hat but instead got a dull brown coat to keep herself alive from the teeth-chattering cold outside.

She was walking again. She was ambling through the snowy gardens amidst the cold winter breeze. She was reminiscing... Thinking... Reflecting... The same questions she had pondered still had no answers. She wished she could communicate with her best friends- which was quite unnerving to think about.

What if they had forgotten about her? What if _he _was already married? Or, what if _he_ did not have inklings whatsoever that she was still alive and waiting for him to come back?

A myriad of "what-ifs" crossed her mind.

But deep inside, she doubted that Ron had forgotten her. He couldn't… He wouldn't dare forget her… They made a promise, a vow before they parted ways five years ago.

_(Flashback)_

_"Promise me one thing, 'Mione," Ron whispered, holding a crying Hermione against him._

_"Anything…"_

_"Please don't forget me, and Harry, too. We may be gone for a while, but we won't ever forget a bossy, bushy-haired Hermione," he said, smiling, while he fondly rumpled her curly brown tresses._

_"I promise… And you better promise that you two won't forget me either!" Hermione answered warmly, glimpsing into his azure blue eyes._

_"Sure thing, 'Mione," Ron murmured, and placed a soft peck on Hermione's cheek, and looking at her sad chocolate brown eyes for the what was presumably the last time._

_With tears trailing down her face, she bade her other best friend goodbye and watched them wave farewell before taking their trunks and apparating out of sight._

_(End of Flashback)_

Her memories were still fresh of that day. She remembered how in their first few weeks of absence they incessantly owled her, but as the months and years came, the post became fewer and fewer, until it reached the point wherein they only greeted her when it was her birthday, Christmas or whatever occasion they felt was proper to send a greeting or a five-sentence letter.

Hermione periodically sent them ten-paragraph letters whenever she felt it was appropriate, only to be replied with "thanks", or whatever reply her best friends thought was suitable. She still sent them presents and gifts when it was their birthday, Christmas, New Year and every other holiday she could think of, only to be sent with whatever gift her best friends could give her as soon as possible.

But Hermione only dismissed those petty, little things, arguing to herself that it was the thought that counted. But did they still have thoughts about her?

As she trudged on, some people would probably even think she was going insane. What would you think if a person wearing only a coat and no hat, mittens or anything to keep herself warm was murmuring quietly and stared at you with blank, expressionless brown eyes as she passed by?

Hermione didn't even bother to notice the people gawking at her, as she was busy mulling over her thoughts and feelings.

She didn't notice that snowflakes were falling from the sky, signaling an upcoming blizzard.

She didn't notice that the people were hurrying to get to their homes or shelter as fast as they could in order to be shielded from the snow.

She didn't notice that she was the only one to be left on the streets.

She didn't notice a great gust of wind coming.

But then she did notice that her coat was blown away and her Galleons, Sickles and Knuts were thrown carelessly on the ground. She then noticed the heavy snowfall that was about to come.

Hermione frantically ran to pick up her coat and get her money from the snowy earth. Ahead she saw a Galleon that was thrown quite far away from the others and was about to leave it there until she saw a pair of hands get it and approach her.

The pair of hands looked familiar. That pair of hands belonged to only one special person...

A/n (again): See? Short chapter… Please have mercy… I've been having writer's block often lately, so I ask for your forgiveness for not being able to write longer chapters… Oh, and as you may have noticed, I changed the title… It is now "Twists of Fate", as you have observed, I added an "s" to the "Twist"… I don't know why… I just felt like doing it...


	3. Catching Up

Chapter Three: Catching Up

Disclaimer: Nope... I absolutely, definitely don't own any of it...

A/n: I'm trying my best... Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far: FeolaBlack, kellydofc, XxxsaladfingersxxX, Hogibear92, RaI'DeE PoYnT3r, PInk SuCks, Lois Lane IV, K9 and Co, Ron's goddess.

Hermione looked up and put her coat around herself. The pair of hands belonged to a person. A person who was coming closer and closer and closer.

"Here, you dropped this...," the red-haired person with tantalizingly blue eyes said, giving Hermione back the Galleon.

Hermione bowed down her head and thought deeply, _this was no other than Ron!_, and she smiled at herself.

"Thanks...," she stammered, and raised up her head to become face to face to the taller figure who was one of her best friends at Hogwarts, "Ron..."

"Excuse me," he asked, "Have we met?"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten a 'bossy bushy-haired Hermione'," Hermione replied.

"'Mione? Is that you? Er... You've changed," Ron said, looking closely at her. She definitely had changed. Her hair wasn't as bushy as before; it cascaded in soft brown curls down to her back. She was quite taller now, though still not reaching his height.

The snow was falling heavily now, but they still were glued to each other's eyes.

"Er... It's getting cold out here. Why don't you come to my house and stay until the blizzard subsides?" Ron suggested.

Hermione was about to refuse when the icy cold breeze prompted her to nod.

Ron took her wrist and led her to a plain cottage not far away, and which was otherwise warm on the inside.

"Sit here. I'll fix some cocoa." he said, gesturing to a blue-and-white living room with a fireplace crackling merrily.

Hermione obeyed silently and went to settle herself on a cozy blue armchair, and looked around. At the top of the fireplace was a normal polished clock, and there were frames of pictures there. She didn't have time to examine them because at that very same moment, Ron came in with two cups of steaming hot chocolate and a plate of biscuits.

Hermione took the cup he offered her and waited for a few minutes before starting the conversation.

"Erm... How long have you been here," she inquired politely, setting down her half-finished cup on the table.

"Just yesterday. I haven't been able to unpack half of my things...," Ron responded, looking at the boxes at the far corner of the cottage.

"Er... I meant _here_. In Britain.," Hermione said quietly, gazing at the fireplace.

"Oh, I came here about two days ago. I visited Mum and Dad and my brothers... Ginny, too.," he replied.

"So... How long are you going to stay here," she asked.

"I'm not going anywhere, 'Mione... Mission's already finished," Ron stated, "Well, except Harry. He gets to stay there for another two months because of additional special training. Which means I'm getting a job at the Ministry."

"I missed both of you... You and Harry." Hermione said.

"Us too. But we were always busy that we weren't able to reply to your novel-length letters." he told her, apologetically smiling.

"It's fine... Really." Hermione murmured, smiling a bit.

"Enough talk about me. How about you," Ron inquired, glimpsing outside the window for a moment to see if the snow had stopped falling, which was still falling heavily, as he observed.

"Erm... I work at the Department for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, I am also one of the editors of the Evening Prophet and I co-own a bookstore in Diagon Alley with Hannah Abott." she replied.

Ron grinned lopsidedly. "I knew you'd make the most of your life! Imagine, three occupations at once! Only one person could do that all without panicking or collapsing within the first few minutes- you."

"I really intend to make the most of my life, thank-you-very-much. Unlike _some_, who leave their deadline-on-Thursday Potions essay until Wednesday midnight while still at Hogwarts." Hermione told him, this time grinning too.

"Those _some_ who leave their deadline-on-Thursday Potions essay until Wednesday midnight while still at Hogwarts have also succeeded, becoming fine, respectable Aurors." he grinned, repeating a part of Hermione's dialogue.

"Oh, are they really," she said, " Anyway, umm... do you already have a family?"

"Nope. Not yet. Missions keep Aurors deprived of lovelife," he replied. "'Bout you? Still single?"

"Of course. Having three jobs isn't basically a walk in the park." Hermione smiled rather warmly.

"I know that. I was just wondering if you were still _fraternizing with the enemy_." Ron told her in a joking manner.

"_Fraternizing with the enemy_," she said, surprised, "I am not going to have an affair with a Bulgarian Seeker who is already married to a famous Bulgarian witch and has four children with her. Haven't you read? Viktor was married five years ago to a certain Tatyana Ivanevsky."

"Oh. Now I know how it feels to be shut out from the world in five years."

Hermione smiled and continued their conversation until it was beginning to get dark.

"I have to go home. The blizzard's slowing down." Hermione said, getting up to her feet. "Thanks a lot. It has been wonderful catching up with you."

"'Twas my pleasure, 'Mione. I'll accompany you home." Ron told her, handing her coat and getting one from the closet for himself.

"You don't have to, you know..." Hermione started.

"I insist." he said, "Now, what do you prefer? Floo network, Apparation or the good ole Muggle way?"

"The good ole Muggle way."

"The good ole Muggle way it is, then." Ron murmured, opening the door and offering his arm.

Hermione went out and took his arm. The snowflakes were falling slowly this time. She glimpsed the number of Ron's house: 33 Belladonna Lane. Hermione stared in amazement. If Ron's house was #33, then, she just lived next door!

"Er... 'Mione?" Ron asked.

"You know what? We're next-door neighbors. I just live there." She answered, pointing at the cottage next to Ron's.

"It won't be too much of a fuss to visit each other often, huh?"

"Yes, it won't."

Presently they came to Hermione's house: 32 Belladonna Lane.

"Wanna come inside?" Hermione inquired.

"No thanks. I still need to unpack." Came Ron's polite reply.

"Okay. I'll help you unpack tomorrow. Thanks again."

"You're welcome, 'Mione." he said.

"So... Er... Goodnight, Ron. Sweet Dreams.," Hermione whispered, and gave him a friendly peck on his cheek.

"Yeah, you too. Goodnight, 'Mione.," Ron approached her and kissed her forehead, then bade goodbye and left.

Hermione turned on the porch light and watched as Ron went back to his cottage. She gave Ginger the usual cat food and changed into warm bedclothes. Before falling asleep, she sighed and realized that she didn't want that wonderful day to just be a dream.

A/n: Too short? Tell me your thoughts about this fic. I'll improve in the later chapters. Thanks a lot!


	4. A Flame Starting to Ignite Again

Chapter Four: A Flame Starting to Ignite… Again

Disclaimer: Told you before... I don't own anything! (Though I wish I did...)

A/n: Thanks again to all of those who reviewed... Oh, and by the way, in response to a question; Harry's going to come in later chapters (I still haven't thought where he would be placed, so patience, dear readers!)... Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry for not updating! Exams came and I still have a hectic schedule to keep up with.

Gentle, faint rays of sunlight came dancing about in the early morning hours of a chilly Sunday morning in late November. The ground was covered with snow and the weather was still very cold and nippy. But despite these not-so-good conditions, nothing prevented Hermione from smiling the second she opened her eyes.

She seemed to be in a very good mood as she twirled around her home as she was fixing up a nice, warm breakfast for herself. Nothing hindered her from feeling the warm glow she was feeling inside. Ginger, for instance, became surprised at her owner's actions. Ginger had never seen Hermione quite as happy as she gave Ginger's food and stroked Ginger's fur.

Hermione did her mountain load of chores quite quickly and without complaint. She was looking forward to see her best friend again. Dressing up warmly in a purplish-blue hand-knitted sweater Mrs. Weasley had given her for Christmas a year ago (she didn't lose touch with the Weasley household) and a comfortable pair of jeans and wrapping herself in a coat and scarf, she proceeded outdoors to visit her neighbor.

Skipping slightly, she went to Ron's house and knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" a voice asked.

"Ron, it's me, Hermione Jane Granger, one of your best friends?" she answered, laughing quietly.

"Oh, right, err... C'mon in," came the reply.

Ron was unpacking the boxes and was bustling about in the house. Hermione had to put her hand on her mouth to try to stifle her laughter. Ron was running around and was trying to do many things at the same time. For instance, he was trying to unpack a box while levitating a lamp, a dresser and a clock, and was eating a piece of toast at the same time.

"Can I help?"

"Sure. Can't you see I'm desperately in need of help?" Ron said, lopsidedly smiling, his eyes seemingly laughing.

With Hermione's help, they managed to unpack the boxes within an hour. Then they sat on the sofa and marveled at their task well done while sipping cups of steaming hot chocolate. Just then, Ron stood up suddenly.

"Damn! I just remembered. I've got to go to the Ministry this afternoon. You know... For a job interview." he told Hermione, picking up his cloak and wand. "Can you manage to stay here alone for a few hours? I really need to go now."

"Sure. I can clean up the place while you're out," Hermione replied amusedly, looking at a panicking Ronald Weasley, who was now desperately trying to shove his right shoe on his left foot.

"Thanks a lot! Oh, and there's some pasta in the kitchen if you're hungry. I'll be back soon!" Ron said frantically, finally putting each shoe to its respective foot.

"'Bye!" Hermione told him, smiling, picking up a discarded cardboard box.

"'Bye!" he replied, and leaned towards her, and kissed her chastely and hurriedly on the lips before Apparating out of sight.

Hermione stood dumbfounded. Maybe Ron was aiming for her cheek but missed because he was hurrying to go to the Ministry. She shoved her thoughts aside and just set about on cleaning the cottage for about five hours, stopping only for a short break to eat some of the pasta which Ron cooked, and to her surprise, it tasted delicious, much like Mrs. Weasley's cooking.

Grabbing a plate and filling it again with lasagna, she went back to the living room and stared at the pictures on the mantelpiece. They showed Ron throughout his life; the earliest one was about when he was a year old. The last one was a copy of the one she had at home. But then, Hermione noticed a brass-framed photograph, one which showed Ron and her underneath a tree and against the castle.

"I don't remember that," she said, dropping her fork on the plate and set it on the table.

Looking closer, she found out that she was sleeping, a large, ancient book resting on her arms, and was leaning into Ron's chest, smiling comfortably. Ron, too, was dozing, but had his arm around her protectively and was leaning his head on top of hers.

"Harry and Ginny took that shot when you were too exhausted from reading that what's-its-name-book, and I was busy sleeping because I did my Astronomy essay at dawn," a voice remarked.

"Goodness, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, turning around, and grinning, looking into his face.

"Hi 'Mione"

"You shouldn't do that too often- you might accidentally kill someone out of shock," she scolded gently.

"Do what?"

"Well, for one thing- silent Apparition!" Hermione said thoughtfully, "And you shouldn't scare people like that. They don't know you're there and then you suddenly speak and they might have a heart attack or whatever else goodness-knows-what ---"

"You're ranting again," he said, putting a lopsided grin on his face.

"Oh, was I?"

"Yep"

"I didn't notice because I was talking to you because you scared me and then---"

"You're doing it again."

"Sorry," she said apologizingly.

Ron smiled and went over to her, placing his arm around her shoulders, in a friendly gesture. Hermione leant into his chest, snuggling for warmth.

"You're early," Hermione continued, leaning her head towards him.

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Not a bit," she answered. "Have you even noticed I've cleaned?"

"Not really,"

His reply earned him a playful slap on the arm by Hermione.

"Sorry, just kidding," Ron said apologetically, bending his head and laying it on top of hers, rumpling her hair. "Of course I did."

"One more question: Why didn't you tell me we had a picture together?" she asked.

"I dunno, maybe I just forgot," he told her, all the while gazing at the mantelpiece. "Hey, 'Mione, did you eat the lasagna yet?"

"Yes, Ron. I could've sworn it tasted much like Mrs. Weasley's cooking."

"Nope, you're wrong there. I made it myself."

"You did? But how could you cook anything to be edible? I thought the only things you beat me at were chess and Quidditch?"

"You mean you can't cook, 'Mione?"

"Of course I can!" Hermione retorted while looking scandalized. "It's just… my pasta doesn't turn out really well."

"Oh. Anyway, Can you help me put up the Christmas decorations tomorrow?" Ron pleaded, his azure eyes looking desperately at Hermione.

"Sure, as long as you teach me how to make incredibly scrumptious pasta."

"It's a deal."

A rather awkward silence enveloped them amidst the fury of the blizzard raging outside.

"Um, 'Mione?" Ron inquired.

"Yes, Ron? What is it?"

"I'm sorry about the kiss earlier," He mumbled quietly. "I didn't mean-"

"It's alright. I would've done the same thing, too," Hermione interrupted, the words coming out of her mouth before she had time to think.

"Oh."

"Ron, do you regret kissing me?" she told him softly, after minutes of stillness.

"Never," Ron said, all the while smiling and kissing her on the cheek.

Hermione smiled and did the same to him. Ron, on the other hand, slid his arm draped on her shoulders and put it on her waist. He led her to the kitchen and they both prepared a dinner of chicken casserole, whilst talking in a laughing manner.

There, in the serene, frosted November evening, a faint flicker of love was apt to shine again.

A/n: It's really none of my business to oblige you to review; it's really up to you…


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